No One but I
by TheArchAngel'sDemoness
Summary: Germany comes home, slamming doors and avoiding Italy more than usual. What could have possibly happened?


_[D: Seriously, for those of you who have stuck with me, thank you. You are never forgotten. Now onto the usual rant._

_As usual, this one comes with a story. I was looking through my photos and I happened upon one of Germany-san with a black eye. In the two seconds I looked at it, this little plot bunny ravaged my brain. Also, part of this was inspired by Metallica's song "Whiskey in the Jar" (which I obviously don't own). In no way is this even close to being historically correct. I just got eaten by the white rabbits at 5:30 in the morning. Blame them if this sucks.]_

_[Disclaimer: How long have you guys been reading from me? How many times have I put this thing here?]_

_[Warning: OOC Italy, broken Germany, the usual America, shounen-ai. The usual suspects.]_

_Italy's POV_

I walked through the back door into the kitchen and sat the brown bags full of groceries on the counter. I'd decided to compromise on cooking. Pasta and wurst could cohabitate in the same dish if the cook knew magic. And I knew the magic of cuisine.

I had just started pulling things out of the bag to put them away when the front door slammed closed. I jumped. Looking at the clock, I knew it was Germany-san, but something was wrong. Germany-san _never_ slammed doors. I put the wurst in the refrigerator and went to investigate. The front hall was deserted. His boots lie in the floor as if he'd pulled them off while still walking. The left was lying near the stairs so I knew he'd gone upstairs. I picked them up and placed them near the coat rack like he usually did, then followed him.

The door to his room was closed. I knocked which was uncharacteristic of me, but I didn't want to get shot. I heard silence so I decided it was safe. I cracked the door and stuck my head in. Germany sat on his bed with his head in his hands. I pushed the door open and went to his side. His hat sat askew on his head. His military shirt was unbuttoned. All-in-all, he looked disheveled.

"Germany-san?" I said quietly. He stiffened but didn't move from his position.

I knelt in front of him. Not liking seeing a sad Germany, I took his hands in mine and peeled them away from his face. I gasped at what I saw when he looked up. A dark purplish bruise bloomed near his right eye. His ocean-blue eyes were watery. He closed them and turned his face resolutely away.

I turned him back to me with a palm on his unharmed cheek. "Germany-san, what happened to you? Who did this?" The stubborn German just looked at me. I sighed. "Fine. Don't tell me. I'll be back though." I stood and went into his bathroom, wetting a rag and grabbed some ointment out of the cabinet. I heard a dull thud. Returning, I noticed that he'd thrown his hat across the room and his shirt was on the floor, leaving him in his tank-top and pants. I knelt in front of him again and pressed the cool cloth onto the abrasion. He flinched slightly and watched me with those cool blue eyes. I held it there for a long time, swiping occasionally at a scrape at the centre that insisted on bleeding. I rubbed some soothing ointment onto it. "Do you have others?" I hoped for a 'no', but he nodded and pulled his shirt out of his pants and over his head, throwing it onto the bed, never uttering a word. I would've taken "Fuck off" at this point, anything except silence.

Sighing, I examined the purple splotches on his torso. They were mostly on the left side of his body, mostly his ribs. I gently rubbed more of the ointment onto his abused skin.

"It was over you," he said quietly.

I paused and looked up. His blue eyes were hard. "What?"

"The fight. It was over you," he repeated.

I was confused. "Over me? But why? Who with?"

He looked away again. "Because America said something about you that no one but I am allowed to say."

I turned his face back to me again. "What did he say, Germany?"

His face flushed pink, but he didn't look away. "That you are..." He searched for the right word. "Lovely."

I blinked. "So you hit him?" He nodded. "Why?"

"Because..." He paused. "Because... _Ich lieb dich,_" he said, reverting back to his native tongue.

"You know I have no idea what that means, but you will tell me later. For now, I'll finish fixing you." I rubbed more ointment onto a bruise on his hip that was slightly below his pants. I nudged them down so I could reach all of it. His hand encircled my wrist almost painfully.

"_Italia, halt_." That, I did know the meaning of and froze, afraid I had hurt him.

"Germany?" His blue eyes held a strange light that I'd never seen before. He pulled my hand behind him, throwing me off-balance and I fell forward into him. He turned my chin up and his mouth fell onto mine. I froze and closed my eyes. His mouth was soft, belied by the hard lines he usually held it in. He was very much warm and solid.

He pulled away slightly. "It means, _Italia_, that I love you," he said softly and kissed me again.

_[Bitch: It's short, but I was exhausted and I had to get it down. And yeah, I know Italy's OOC. I warned you. I chalk it up to not wanting to die and caring for a hurt Germany-san. Who can resist that face, honestly? No one. And if you can, you're not human. Leave me reviews. They make me update things faster. :D _

_P.S. There will absolutely be no more chapters for this. It is a stand alone. Love you guys ;hearts.]_


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